


Cover

by spooningwithisa (upriserseven)



Category: Florence + the Machine
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-20 18:05:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 8,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/upriserseven/pseuds/spooningwithisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Covers, and what they mean. This is a series of one-shots, but it can also be read as a non-linear work. You don't need to read every one, but it works just as well (IMO) if you do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Can't Speak French

Rob moaned about it, of course. The boys always did. They’re indie and sexy and like, far too fucking cool to cover a Girls Aloud song. But they do it. Florence could convince Kurt Cobain to cover the Spice Girls with her. It seems Florence can charm the pants off anybody. Except Isa.

It’s not that she hasn’t tried. And it’s not like Isa’s always been immune to her, it’s much more recent. So recent they could both pinpoint the exact moment, if they’d admit anything (everything) had changed. They’d been drunk. Of course they’d been drunk, that’s how any story worth telling starts. But they’d been very drunk and it started with something as simple as Isa not remembering how long they’d known each other. And God, Flo had gotten weepy and suddenly Isa didn’t find it endearing anymore. Florence’s ridiculously fragile emotional state had gone from being something she adored about her best friend, to an annoying trait of a colleague.

That was when it all started. She’d cried because Isa left off a year of their friendship. And Florence could be so dramatic. Like she genuinely believed that year didn’t mean anything to Isa, that she didn’t mean anything. So Isa vowed to give up. It had been a few weeks, and things almost seemed normal on the surface. But she wasn’t reassuring her ludicrous insecurities anymore, she wasn’t letting Florence fall asleep in her arms. She wasn’t going to catch someone who was falling on purpose.

She was allowing herself to be charmed, in a professional setting, just this once because she really wanted to watch the boys pretend to not be loving this. She tried not to dwell on the songs Flo chose to cover, she’d learned early on that she shouldn’t get caught up in what Florence is thinking or feeling. A few years ago, she wouldn’t have believed that ridiculous pop could give her any insight into someone’s darkest thoughts. She’d been naïve.

They don’t need her to play for this (she’s supposed to do some backing vocals, supposedly so she doesn’t feel left out), so Isa avoids listening to Flo’s voice and watches Tom squirm. Until Florence stops. Just stops, says sorry and walks out. Naturally, the boys turn awkwardly to Isa.

“What?”

“Well, aren’t you gonna… I don’t know, do something?”

She considers biting back, what exactly does Chris expect her to do? Suddenly warm up to the emotionally volatile brat she’s been trying to distance herself from for weeks? She decides it’s not worth it, not worth drawing attention to whatever exactly is going on with her and Flo right now, definitely not worth drawing anyone else, so she strolls out after Florence. 

Isa finds her leaning against a wall, shivering and with a singular black line running down her face. Everything she’d been holding inside for weeks left her as she walked straight over and pulled Florence into her arms. It’s an awkward position, it always has been, and at times like these Isa feels like her best friend is at least four foot taller than her. She laughs into red hair before pulling away.

“What’s up, buttercup?”

“Okay, I sound like I’m five years old but Is, do you hate me or something?” In that moment, Isa is torn between the feeling of adoration that sweeps through her, and an overwhelming rush of guilt.

“Of course I don’t hate you. I’ve just. I’m tired, I guess.” _Of just being a shoulder for you to cry on_ , she leaves out. “I’ve been taking that out on you. Sorry.”

“Is this because of the whole… ‘not knowing how long we’ve known each other’ thing? Because I know my reaction was completely over the top I just, I don’t know, like I cherish every second we spend together and I just realised that I see our whole relationship totally differently to you and I was a dick about it and actually that’s why I wanted to sing this, because in a way it like, it sums up a lot of things I need to say to – what? You’re looking at me like I’m an utter twat; I should stop talking, right?”

“Do you ever breathe?”

“Occasionally.”

“Apparently it’s quite important.”

“It’s overrated. I have too many things to say to worry about when I’ll take my next breath.”

“Flo. It’s fucking freezing. Can we go back in there?”

“I’ll let the music do the talking.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it. Chapter One. I have a rather unpredictable writing style, so heaven knows what Chapter Two will be like... (lyrics to Can't Speak French can be found [here](http://www.metrolyrics.com/cant-speak-french-lyrics-girls-aloud.html))


	2. Addicted to Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is... actually the one chapter that's very different to the others. This one isn't about what inspired the cover, more about what the cover inspires, I guess?  
> Full lyrics can be found [here](http://www.lyricsfreak.com/r/robert+palmer/addicted+to+love_20116935.html).

_The lights are on._

Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me. I’ve spent all night, all week, trying not to think about Florence. Trying so goddamn hard, and it was almost working. Trying even harder not to think about the fact that she kissed me the last time I saw her.  
We’ve kissed a thousand times, probably more. But then I was leaving, and she was emotional, and it lingered. Longer than usual but nowhere near as long as I’d like. 

_Your heart sweats, your body shakes  
Another kiss is all it takes_

And a week of managing to hardly think about her (thinking about not thinking about her doesn’t count, does it?), here we are. Out in some dingy club, drinking enough to not feel too lonely in my new surroundings, and she’s the first thing I hear. Flo’s voice travels through me with a shiver and I’m very aware of the breath I can’t seem to let go. 

_You can’t sleep, you can’t eat.  
There’s no doubt, you’re in deep._

I’ve known for a while that my feelings for Florence aren’t what they used to be. Her laugh isn’t just infectious, it makes my heart swell. I used to feel proud when I heard her voice (there’s something so beautiful about being someone’s friend and their biggest fan all in one), and now I feel all of that and… what I can only describe as adoration, I guess. I’ve always known she’s beautiful but it’s more now; I picture her face before I fall asleep, I notice the slight curve of her waist, the rise and fall of her chest when she sleeps, her different smiles for different people, different occasions. 

_You like to think you’re immune to the stuff  
It’s closer to the truth to say you can’t get enough_

Could they even be playing a worse song? I’d rather be hearing Dog Days, Cosmic Love, something we wrote together. I could deal with the pain of missing that side of our relationship far better than I could handle hearing this. I’d rather listen to anything than a breathy Florence sing about sex. I need to shake this out of my head. I need to be thinking about anything other than that kiss. Ugh, I’ve gone almost a WEEK, does that count for nothing? One week without thinking of how soft she felt, how different it was, all the places I wanted it to go. 

_Your heart sweats, your teeth grind  
Another kiss, and you’ll be mine_

I have three days left. Three days, and then I’m back in London and I can see her. Hug her a little too tightly when I see her and pretend I’ve just missed her. Let her fall asleep in my arms again, because the little machine is a good friend. Never make it clear I’m taking in her scent, make sure she doesn’t feel that sharp intake of breath I can’t help when she touches me. Just stay close to her and try to figure out what the hell is going on in my mind.

_You’re gonna have to face it you’re addicted to love._

Fuck it, I’m addicted to something.


	3. You've Got The Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt fairly emotional writing this, simply because it's pre-Lungs and we are now post-Ceremonials. I hope everybody enjoys! Everybody who is reading this is on my list of all-time favourite people, so thank you so much. I don't personally believe that dialogue is my strong point, so any opinions on this chapter are welcome!
> 
> Full lyrics, just in case you need them, can be found [here](http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/f/florence_and_the_machine/youve_got_the_love.html).

“I’m not well.”

“You’re hungover, Miss Welch.”

“I’m not, I’m dying.” Florence looked up at her friend, who was standing over her and laughing. “Stop laughing at me! If I die, you’re going to feel terrible.”

“You’re right. I’ll feel atrocious. Could you wait until after we’ve finished the album? I think it might get somewhere”

“Love you too.”

Isa smiled and tried to find a space on the floor that Florence wasn’t already occupying, before sliding into it. 

“You need a bigger studio; I’m too tall for this space. This is an Isa-sized space.”

“Of course. How unreasonable of me to-”

“No, I mean it. We’re going to be spending a lot more time here, Isa. I need to fit. You need to make space for me.” Florence reached out, resting the hand that wasn’t covering her face on Isa’s knee. “Things are going to be different now. We’re not just a Robot and a Machine playing gigs to twenty drunks, we’re not just recording the first thing we think of. We’re making a proper album. This could be it. We need to make sure we’re completely together on this one. So that space I have in your life? It needs to be bigger. You need to be sure you can tolerate me every minute of every day because that what you’re getting.”

“Honestly, Flo? That sounds perfect. What more could I want, really, than to never be able to escape you?”

“I’m too unwell to tell if you’re being sarcastic, Isabella.” Isa lifted Florence’s hand from her face, taking it in her own and looking into green eyes.

“I have never been more serious in my life. You’re like, my constant. If things are going to get crazy, I want to be with you when it happens.” She paused for a split second before turning away and mumbling, “you really do look terrible, actually. You should sleep for a bit.”

“I told you! What if I have something wrong with me? What if it’s-“

“It’s not. It’s a hangover. But you need to sleep, let me get you a cover or a cushion or something.”

“Sing to me, Isa.” 

“What?”

“Like, sing me to sleep or whatever you want to call it. It’ll make me feel better. Sit next to me and sing me to sleep. Please?”

“And what would you like me to sing?” 

“Whatever you want. Make something up; sing the worst song you can think of. Sing whatever you want, just sing to me.” Isa shuffled around a little to sit back against the wall, bringing Florence over to curl up next to her. She felt herself smile as Florence put her head in her lap and moved her hand instinctively to stroke the knotted mass of reddish-brown hair. 

“You’re not getting out of this, Isa. I won’t sleep until you sing to me.” Isa’s heavy sigh earns a giggle (which, in turn, earns a loud cry of pain.) 

_Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air,_  
 _But I know I can count on you._  
 _Sometimes I feel like saying Lord I just don’t care,_  
 _But you’ve got the love I need to see me through._

Isa feels Florence smile against her and relaxes into her song. 

“Isa?”

“Yeah”

“I love you. I’m excited for our lives to change together.”

“Love you too, Flo. It’s about to get interesting.”


	4. Try a Little Tenderness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full lyrics can be found [here](http://artists.letssingit.com/florence-and-the-machine-lyrics-try-a-little-tenderness-6cdqn6n). (Despite the fact that they're hugely inaccurate.)

It’s not like it happened all the time, but it had been happening as long as they’d known each other. Never frequent, never more than one night every few months. But in nine years, once every few months added up. Florence had lost count of how many times they’d slept together, but she knew she could count exactly the number of times they’d kissed. 

It gave it too much meaning, she said. When Florence had questioned it one night (granted, she could’ve picked a better time than when Isa’s hand was moving its way up her thigh), Isabella had simply looked up at her and told her that friends with benefits don’t kiss. 

“Surely we’re a bit more than that, though. I mean, we’re best friends. We’re best friends and we kiss even when we’re not-“ she gestured at the bed below her, her state of undress “so why can’t you kiss me when we’re about to sleep together?”

“Do you want me to stop or what?”

“I’m not saying that, I’m just saying… its weird how you don’t kiss me. I feel a bit used.” She’d regretted the words before they even came out of her mouth. Isa had simply stood up and stormed out of the room. They hadn’t spoken all day, nothing but a small text from Isa earlier in the day reading ‘you’re my friend, you’re not my girlfriend and I’m not yours.’ 

So when she’d been putting together her set list for the night, she’d decided on a new addition. She needed to tell Isa exactly how she felt, what she’d been trying to say all along. And honestly, the only way Florence knew how to express herself was by singing it. 

“Interesting addition you’ve got there. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that was some kind of message” she turned to face the voice behind her, automatically smiling when she saw the small blonde figure standing there.

“Haven’t been able to get it out of my head today.” Isabella nodded at her. It was small, but it was there. It was almost understanding. “Are we-“

“I don’t know what we are, Flo. I thought about you a lot last night after I left. And you’re right, we are more. I want us to be friends, but I don’t want to have to stop doing this. Everything’s muddled in my head and kissing is just too much. It’s too sappy, too romantic. Everything this was never meant to be.”

“So” She looked at her friend, who was staring intently at the floor, seemingly unable to look up if her life depended on it, “you’re saying you can’t kiss me because this is just sex, and if you’re worried about it becoming anything more?”

“Sort of. It’s complicated. I need this to be more detached if it’s going to keep happening. I’d understand if you can’t do that, really I would. I’m just saying. That’s what I need. At least until I can deal with the sentimentality. Can you, can we do that?”

“I don’t know. I like the sentimentality, Isa. I like being kissed. Sometimes I want the sappy and romantic, y’know? Sometimes I want…”

“Tenderness?” Florence offered her a small laugh, a nod of her head. Red hair fell over her face and she let her eyes remain hidden while she spoke.

“Something like that. You may not have been too far off the mark with that theory about me trying to get a message across. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. I’m constantly wondering the next time will be, if anything will change, how long this will keep happening, and I’m getting tired. I can try for you, I can keep doing this with you and let you not kiss me, but I can’t guarantee we won’t be having this conversation again in six months.” Isa nodded again, unmoving. The blonde darted her eyes around the room, before slowly walking over and kissing her. It was quick, but it was soft and its clear purpose sent an unexpected wave through Florence.

“I’ll try.”


	5. Last Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, take a little Christmas angst. This chapter is really, really short and I apologise for that. Also, I know the actual timing/some of the details aren’t really, well, accurate but I decided to exorcise my right to rock out with the artistic license. Full lyrics can be found [here](http://www.karaoke-lyrics.net/lyrics/florence-the-machine/last-christmas-251613).

Florence doesn’t pull stunts like that. That’s why last year had been so shocking, I suppose. I wasn’t even supposed to be going. She’d whined a little about that (“Isaaaaaaaa, it’s fucking Christmas and I’m doing a show and Chris wants you to come and so does Rob and what could possibly be more important than coming to our Christmas gig?” Um, my parents?) but she’d managed to talk me into it eventually. I could go back home the next day and still have time, plus she had a present for me. I was unlikely to turn that down. 

Things had been, putting it lightly, a little strained between us for a few weeks. I’d been sort-of dating someone, the band had been doing really well, and we hadn’t spent an awful lot of time together. I love the girl, but she needs constant attention and she doesn’t like when she’s not getting it. So we hadn’t seen much of each other or spoken a lot. And then she’d done that, pulled that on me. I’d never thought of Florence as clingy, never imagined she was the girl you had sex with and then she was… there. All the time. I’ve always known she falls in love at the drop of hat (before the hat even hits the ground, the second it looks like it might fall), but usually with someone unattainable; the skinny, greasy looking boy who works in the café near my studio, there was that woman she saw once on the tube wearing a fur hat and talked about non-stop for a month. I just never assumed she’d cling to me. 

But then she had. I saw videos later and it’d been short, and it had been passed off as a joke, but I’d heard “I don’t want a lot for Christmas” and I left. There had been endless phone calls, text messages and the occasional screaming match but by the time I got back to London in January, she’d apologised. Things were slowly falling back into place; we were almost back to normal. 

I should’ve seen it coming, though. I should’ve known that Florence doesn’t like anything to be unfinished. I left last year. She took it too far so I left. I’m in the band this year, I don’t have that option. She likes to think she’s so mysterious and unpredictable, but if I’d thought it through, I would’ve seen this a mile away. 

_Last Christmas, I gave you my heart._

And this time, I was stuck there. Nothing to do but stare at my keys and drown out her voice, fighting the urge to run off stage.


	6. All I Want For Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more Christmas angst, just for you. This one is best read with the chapter before. It works as a separate entity, but they belong together. Full lyrics can be found [here](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/mariahcarey/alliwantforchristmasisyou.html).

I think I’m going to throw up. I cannot throw up. Nobody’s ever been successful in a grand romantic gesture that immediately followed vomiting. I’m not going to be successful anyway, bar a Christmas miracle. Maybe I should let myself throw up. It’d be worse to make it happen though. Ugh, okay. Whatever happens, happens. 

It’s Christmas, I think that should count for something. Pity? Maybe she’ll soften the blow? I can’t remember why exactly I’ve decided to do this. Oh, yeah, I’m in love with her. That’ll do it. 

I know, logically, that if we’ve been hooking up for this long and it’s never even been discussed, it doesn’t mean anything. But I can’t just sit by and let her date this idiot with his ridiculous hair and not even try to do anything about it. Can I? Oh God should I? Should I just let her be happy and if she wants to end up chained to this moron, let her? Isa’s not stupid enough to get serious with someone unless she wants to (is she?) and surely if she wanted more than just sex she’d let me know. 

It took enough to get her here, that can’t be a good thing. I’d had to text her constantly, practically guilt her into it, tell her the boys wanted her here. I’d begged, let’s be honest. (“Isaaaaaaaa, it’s fucking Christmas and I’m doing a show and Chris wants you to come and so does Rob and what could possibly be more important than coming to our Christmas gig?” Probably being at home with her parents, her brother. Definitely not me. Wow that was selfish, Florence.) I told her I had a present for her, and okay, I do. I really do. I should probably hand that over before I do this, make sure she gets it. Or I can hold on to it and give her a reason to stick around and talk to me after. That one, definitely that one. Jesus, this girl brings out the worst in me sometimes.

So the boys know the plan. Start with something Christmassy, I’ll give them the nod when it’s time to switch it up and do a proper song. I couldn’t bear to tell them anymore. That’d be opening up a whole new can of worms. “Oh yeah, I’m just going to sing All I Want For Christmas to Isa, hope you guys are willing to help me make a fool of myself or quite possibly get the girl.” Unlikely. 

And there’s some awkward conversation when she arrives (she’s alone thank God, I couldn’t handle him being here), a hug that I could tell she didn’t really mean and this is a bad idea. This is a really, really bad idea but we’re up in five minutes and it’s too late to back out now. I’ll just do it and then it’s over. She hates me or she doesn’t. Deep breath, Florence. Deepest breath you can manage right now.

She’s looking at me. Oh good God she’s looking at me. Of course she is, I’m on stage. I’m also an idiot. I can feel myself freezing up. Just sing, girl. That’s what you’re good at.

_I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need._

Shit. She’s leaving. She was moving before I’d even finished the first line. She stares directly at me for a split second, and I'm not sure if I'm imagining the reflections building in her eyes. Is she crying? This was a bad idea, I knew it. 

I sing a few more lines, to keep up the pretence of a Christmas joke. And then I give the boys the nod, and we switch songs. 

I knew I was just giving it a shot. I didn’t realise I was expecting her to melt into my arms until it didn't happen. 

_I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know._


	7. Oh! Darling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been shuffled in the line-up so many times, but here goes I guess. I originally wanted this song as the second chapter, and then I saw it live, and it featured in the final chapter of the Hogwarts AU and I suddenly had these very real feelings about the cover itself and needed to change a lot to post it. In fact, change everything. So this chapter is now based on what inspired the addition of this song to the 10/12/12 setlist. Full lyrics can be found [here](http://www.sing365.com/music/lyric.nsf/Oh-Darling-lyrics-The-Beatles/BA96E863ED260A1248256BC20015990D).

They’d decided not to do that anymore. They (Isa) had decided it wasn’t a good idea anymore. It wasn’t fun, things were getting messy and it was seriously fucking up their friendship. 

It was the closeness and they both knew it. They both knew that Florence was the only person who knew her, really knew her. They both knew Isa was terrified how intimate they were without the physicality, and it was clearly too much for her to handle. 

They hadn’t really talked about it, of course. They’d simply stopped, and everything else had remained the same. They still cuddled constantly; they kissed when they were drunk; they tweeted constantly about each other’s perfection, and Flo still woke up with Isa lying next to her. 

“I’m moving to LA next year.” The words were almost whispered, and they hung in the air for a moment before they were repeated; louder, with more confidence. “Next year, when we do this year off thing? I’ve decided to move to LA.”

“You, um... Okay. Why?” 

“There are two answers, it depends which one you want.”

“I want them both, Isabella.” Isa rolled over to face Florence and rolled her eyes. She’d grown out of the objections to her full name years ago, but it seemed it was impossible for her to respond without groaning. She sighed before kissing Florence lightly on the tip of her nose, pulling away and looking at her for a few long moments.

“The standard issue reason, the reason I’m giving everybody else, is my career. I can try all sorts of cool new shit, hook up with new bands, and really test my limits out there. I can be a bit more than ‘Florence’s keyboardist’. It’s a logical move, really.” 

“And the other?”

“You. I think it’s going to be good for me to sort of, be away from you for a while?” She immediately corrected herself, “No, not that, it’s going to be fucking awful being away from you but I need- I need to take some time to be the person who doesn’t do sentimental. Somehow, since we stopped doing… whatever that was we were doing, I’ve fallen for you even harder and I really can’t have that.” 

“Fallen for?”

“Don’t. I mean, that wasn’t some big declaration or whatever, I’m just stating a fact. I told you I couldn’t do all of that and I mean it. This stuff never works out for me, Flo, you know that. I don’t want the next thing to be completely fucked up to be us, so I can’t keep doing this. So I’m going to LA.” 

“You’re going to throw yourself into remixing Christ knows what just so you don’t have to deal with your feelings?” 

“If you want to see it like that…”

“You’re scared of the fact that you have real feelings for me so you’re running away. That’s actually what’s going to happen?”

“I only told you because I wouldn’t have felt right lying to you, don’t get like this. Do you want me to move halfway across the world with us like this?”

“I don’t want you to move halfway across the fucking world at all, Isa!” 

Florence’s vision was only slightly clouded by her building tears, but she saw Isa move to sit on the edge of the bed and start pulling on her shorts. She pulled herself around and put her hand on Isa’s back. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Isa. I just, that was unexpected. All of it. It was a lot to take in.”

“So you just criticised me and shouted? You’re right, I should totally stick around and spend my days in what I’m sure would be the most healthy, functional relationship this side of Romeo and Juliet.” 

“That's not fair! Give me a chance, Isabella. Give me a chance to show you I wouldn’t completely fuck this up. I wouldn’t hurt you, I wouldn’t be terrible relationship Florence. I’d be the Florence you like; only I’d be having far more sex with you than I am now. One chance, that’s all I want. If I mess up, we pretend it never happened and you go to LA.”

“And if you don’t? I want to go to LA, Flo. You were half the reason, remember?”

“Then you go. And I visit you whenever you want me to. There are phones and computers and ways we won’t really be apart even when we are. Oh, where’s your phone?” Isa’s grey eyes looked lost as she nodded and pointed to the bedside table. “Give me a second.” 

She could hear Florence mumbling to herself about YouTube and technology and a string of curses before she sat cross-legged next to Isa and passed her the phone. 

“This is from a Florence YouTube channel. Are you trying to entice me with your music because I’m pretty sure I’ve heard that before... this is Oh! Darling.” 

“Yes. This is exactly what I have to say to you right now. I’ll never hurt you, and I can only deal with you leaving London if it doesn’t mean you’re leaving me. I’m a broken record but give me a chance, Is. Please?” Her hand returned to the small of Isabella’s back, and this time Isa leaned into it. Into her. 

“We’re playing Liverpool on the last leg, yeah?”

“Yup.”

“If you, if we, get through it... If we get there, I want you to sing this.”


	8. Don't Let Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is largely filler, I'm not going to deny it. I felt I needed to add a little more backstory to my timeline, and that's essentially the purpose of this (rather short) chapter. Full lyrics can be found [here](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/envogue/dontletgolove.html). (Read those and tell me they don't scream Florabella, seriously.)
> 
> Sidenote: due to a rather bizzare request, I am currently considering a Q&A session if anybody's interested. You can ask any questions you may have [here](http://spooningwithisa.tumblr.com/ask) and they'll be answered.

Lying on an unfamiliar, awkward bed in a studio in South London with Rob on the other side of the room, she cast her mind back to a conversation she’d had seven years before.

“I remember being like, 11, and listening to that on repeat.” She hears herself saying. She’s been told to not look at the camera, not really look at anything. Just be natural. So she settles herself into that early conversation with Isabella.

_“I fucking LOVE this song!”_

_“Nobody loves this song. And you’re too young to love this song!”_

_“I was like, 11 when this song came out. And I loved it.”_

_“If you were 11 I was the age you are now. Oh, God.”_

_“And I bet you loved this song.”_

_“No, Florence. Nobody loves this song.”_

_“You couldn’t be more wrong. Everybody loves this song because everybody has lived this song. Everybody’s had that friend they’re sort of in love with.”_

_“Everybody’s had a friend they want to fuck, Flo. You’re 17, you’re still a romantic.”_

_“And you’re a cynic, Isa.”_

It still made her laugh to think about it, really. Her age had been the problem, but for completely different reasons. She was 17, she was naïve, and she was blind to other people’s emotions. “Everybody’s had a friend they want to fuck”. It wasn’t until about a year later that she’d realised exactly what Isa was saying.

And everything started to fall into place. Once wasn’t enough, it seemed. It became a semi-regular thing for them. Isa got more passionate (more animalistic) and Florence got softer, fell harder. 

Rob is laughing at her from the other side of the room, shaking his head at the fact that anybody could seriously consider this a brilliant, “massive” song. But they’ve talked about it before, and she knows he agrees. The only person who’s ever outright denied loving this song is Isa. 

She’s tried in the past seven years. She’s played it, she’s requested it on nights out, she’s screamed it at the top of her lungs. All in the hope that Isa would join in one day. 

_“You’re obsessed with this song. I think you have a real problem. You need to go to En Vogue rehab.”_

_“You’re not even a little bit funny, did you know that?”_

_“I did. Why is this the seventh time I’ve heard this tonight?”_

_“Because you don’t love this song and I don’t get that.”_

_“Right, because everybody loves this song. I don’t. I like it. I like it even more when you sing it, but I don’t love it. I don’t think I ever will.”_

So she’d become determined to find an excuse to cover it, she had something to prove. And this extremely peculiar MySpace session was all she had. So she sat there, on the bed, belting out the lyrics while Rob laughed at her and she pretended 11 year old Flossy was the only reason this song had sentimental value.


	9. Halo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still very uncertain on this chapter (I feel like I say that every chapter, but hey ho), but I've decided to publish it anyway because I'm not really sure what I'm uncertain about? Also you have no idea how difficult it was to make this a chapter and not an essay about Beyoncé. Anywho, full lyrics can be found [here](http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/b/beyonce/halo.html).

“I think your love of Beyoncé is unnatural.”

“Excuse me? You don’t adore Beyoncé with every fibre of your being and I’m the one with a problem? Get it together, Welch.”

“I like Beyoncé, don’t get me wrong, but she’s not a God.”

“Heathen.”

Florence couldn’t help but laugh at the tiny blonde staring her down. Isa was weirdly passionate about Beyoncé when sober, apparently drunk Isa went past the endearing and just became scarily intense. They’d been at this club (somewhere in South London, Florence still wasn’t sure where) for five minutes before Isa had requested Single Ladies. It had been played four times in the hour they’d been there. She neither knew nor wanted to know how Isa was convincing the DJ to play it so often. 

“Could you at least get a different song on? Halo, maybe?” 

“Too slow for a club. Single Ladies is the only way, Florence. You should know that!” Isa winked at her, only to be met by an unimpressed scowl, “the only way. Dance with me?”

“I’ll dance with you if you request a different fucking song.”

Isa was too stubborn, of course. She danced with Rob; she danced with Grace; she danced with, well Florence wasn’t entirely sure who half of these people were, but Isa danced with them all. Eventually, she flopped down on the chair next to Florence. 

“You’re really not going to dance with me?” Florence shook her head at her. “Not at all?” 

“Not unless you specifically request a song I've never embarrassed myself to. No comments about how difficult that might be, please.”

“There’s a hundred people in here and every single one would dance to anything. Sometimes I think I want you because you’re so difficult.” Isa corrected herself the second Flo cocked her eyebrow, “Want you to dance with me. You know what I mean. I’m tired.” 

“I’m not surprised. You’ve been jumping around like a maniac for at least an hour.” She pulled Isabella a little closer to her on the chair and handed her a drink. “Just like, sit down for a second.”

“Why are you being so sensible?” 

“Not really in the partying mood. Don’t want to be too hungover for the fucking LIVE LOUNGE tomorrow!” Florence beamed as she said it and Isa could feel her practically vibrating with the excitement. 

“Live lounge, baby! My little Robot’s a superstar!” She paused for a moment before she snuggled into Florence. “I really am tired. I might go home.” 

It was late, Florence said, and she couldn’t have been enjoying herself any less if she’d tried. So she took her home. (Making sure she was okay, she got home safe. They both knew Isa wasn’t even that drunk.) 

“You’re best staying here, really? Aren’t you?” Isa had mumbled as she climbed out of the taxi at her flat, before realising Florence was already behind her. 

“I thought I might as well, yeah.” 

“Can I finally have that dance, once we’re up there? If I play Halo?”

“If you promise not to play Single Ladies, you can have whatever you want.” 

She was sure she saw Isa blush before she kissed her cheek. 

“Whatever I want?”

“As long as you play Halo? Anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also! To anybody who doesn't see the tumblr I post this fic on ([here](http://spooningwithisa.tumblr.com/)), I'm accepting questions about F+TM, Florabella, and my fic for a Q&A session. All questions will be answered (probably in a video) at some point during the week commencing January 21st. Note: the final chapter of Cover will be posted January 19th, for anybody who didn't know that.


	10. Heard It Through the Grapevine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The general consensus was that you guys wanted angst for Chapter 10. So angst you are getting. In bucketloads. This is possibly the only time you'll ever see me say this so take it in... I'm actually pretty proud of this chapter. I hope you guys like it! Full lyrics (sort of) can be found [here](http://www.lyricsmania.com/i_heard_it_through_the_grapevine_lyrics_marvin_gaye.html).

I’m being interviewed by my fucking _boyfriend_ , what is wrong with me? I’m sitting next to him knowing full well that I’m about to sing about being betrayed by a lover. A lover that is most definitely not him. I glance over at Isa and she gives me an excited thumbs-up, and I smile broadly at her before I turn back to Stuart.

I knew that it couldn’t carry on, not really. I couldn’t keep sleeping with Isa while I had a boyfriend. Of course I knew that, I suppose I just never thought she’d get one too. He’s here, with her. Standing next to her with his arm smugly wrapped around her waist. Smug? There’s probably nothing smug about it, I doubt he even knows what he’s doing to me right now. 

I know I should’ve expected it. Isa’s a ray of sunshine, really. God that’s corny. But she is. She’s beautiful, she’s talented, and she’s the sweetest, funniest, most loving person I know. There was no way she wouldn’t get snapped up the second I took my eye off her. The biggest surprise, really, was that she’d clearly been presenting herself as off the market until now. Our… thing, whatever it was (is?) made her unavailable. 

But then I was dating someone, and she was distant. She was off, almost. Not right. Not Isa. It had been Grace who’d told me. (Grace knew. How the fuck did Grace know?) Not told me. She assumed I’d know. I should’ve known. Why didn’t I know? I know why I didn’t know. We’d been talking about today. How I thought it was weird being interviewed by Stuart, how nervous I was that I’d say something especially stupid or mess up my performance. So much effort’s gone in to today, so much work. Oh God, I was so nervous and I’ve just breezed through that interview with no recollection of anything I said or did. So I’d been saying how nervous I was and Grace was reassuring me. Telling me how I’d be okay because I’d be surrounded by people who make me feel better. And when she mentioned Isa, there it was. “I think she’s bringing whatshisface, but Isa! Isa always makes you feel better.” 

And ugh, even by Isa’s standards this guy creeps me out. He makes me uncomfortable, he’s too touchy feely for my liking, he’s all over her and Isa’s not like that. Is she? She’s never been like that before. They seem so… together. So coupley. How long has she even been seeing this guy? I had to pretend I knew about it, just nod when Grace mentioned him. I ended up calling Rob, pretending to be casual about it, getting as much information as I could without breaking down. 

She’s so caught up in all of this I didn’t even get a sarcastic comment about my song choice. Not even an eye roll. No realisation whatsoever. She just sat there texting before she jumped up and said “great choice, Flo!” It probably wasn’t so polite or concise, was it? Probably “wicked choice, Robot” or something. I have no idea what she said; I was too flabbergasted to even notice. Not only had she not told me she had a fucking boyfriend, but when I asked her about it she just said it hadn’t come up. Hadn’t come up? Since when did we wait for things to come up in conversation? Isa! Isa who phoned me the first time she had a sex dream about someone because she really tried not to be attracted to anyone, didn’t tell me she was in a relationship because it hadn’t come up. Fucking madness. 

And I know that I have no right to be upset. I started seeing Stuart way before this sleaze came along. But the second I see them together I know it’s going to break me until it’s over. That there’s someone else with her at night, someone else making her giggle and moan and lose control. Somebody else gets the best of her, and I only know about it because she didn’t hide it well enough. 

So when I’m done singing (did I get too intense? I got too intense) she smiles at me like she’s saying well done and I grab her hand. We go to Tom and have a mini group celebration because the crowd, if you can call them that, seemed to be into it and we think we did pretty well. It takes everything I have not to ask her if she even knew that was for her. About her. I just let her go over to him and observe. 

_I’m just about to lose my mind._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also! Once again, I'm reminding everybody that I'll be doing a Q&A once Cover is over. You now have until about 5:30pm (GMT) on Tuesday, January 22nd to send your questions [here](http://spooningwithisa.tumblr.com/ask) and get them answered.


	11. Postcards from Italy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are. The penultimate chapter. I tried to write something fluffy, I honestly did. And then I wrote this instead. When I first started writing this, SAD asked if there was a Postcards from Italy chapter. There wasn't. There is now. I hope I did it justice. Full lyrics can be found [here](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/florencethemachine/postcardsfromitaly.html).

The tension was killing her. She knew that was a cliché, she really did, but it was killing her and she couldn’t form a more appropriate phrase in her head. “You guys are going to be okay”, Rob had been repeating for the past week and sometimes she couldn’t help but wonder if he knew more than he let on. If he was saying these things to both of them, if he sat with his arm around her, too. Surely people had twigged by now; surely people were noticing that things weren’t right. That they really were two halves of a whole. That when they were forced to be two individuals, something wasn’t right. 

All of this drama, all of these problems, all of the pain (a lot of love, a lot of blood). It was becoming too much. If Florence wasn’t keeping secrets, Isabella was. Each time Flo tried too hard to display her feelings, Isa retreated into hers. For every drunken, teary kiss there was a screaming match or a heartbroken whisper in the dead of night.

Logically, Rob was right. Of course he was. If he was telling them both the same thing it was because he knew it. Whether he meant their friendship or anything more, he was right. They’d be okay. They’d always been okay, eventually. But Isa had never felt as betrayed as when she discovered the feelings her best friend had been hiding (she was hiding them too, but she had the decency to keep it that way), and never before had Florence been made to feel so alone by the one person who was always there.

They’d be okay, they repeated to themselves at night. Florence had realised just how strange it was, to sleep in an unfamiliar bed in a foreign land night after night. Isabella had realised just how small she was, how much space there was in a bed that didn’t have Florence. They’d be okay.

Weeks later (four at the most, neither of them capable of explaining how long it feels) and they are okay. Sort of. They’re as okay as they can be as they lie in hotel bed that was crisp and white and sterile an hour ago, not looking at each other. 

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Florence mutters, not entirely sure whether or not to say it even as the words tumble out of her mouth. Isa says nothing, simply raises an eyebrow in the hope that she’ll go on. “It’s funny how we’ve had all these great times together, and I’m sure we’ll have all these great times again. But sometimes we just can’t see that. We just see the pain. There are times when I look at you and all I see is someone who runs away, and I know that all you’re seeing in me in somebody who’s pushing you too hard.”

“And other times?”

“Other times I look at you and I see the rest of my life. That’s so cheesy, I know, but I look at you and I imagine all the things that could be. That might be.”

“That really is cheesy.” She smiles, though. She didn’t think she’d smile at that, that idea of the future, of their future, but she does. “You know that song ‘Postcards from Italy’? That’s it, really, isn’t it? ‘The times we had were not all bad’. Things are going to be alright, yeah?”

“If we want them to be.” 

It took a while, too long, for them to get here and they both know it. But they lie together at night (in the biblical sense, sometimes. Not too often, but it’s there. It’s real.) They find comfort in it; Florence hearing in Isa’s moans everything she doesn’t hear in her words, Isa knowing that she’s allowed to feel this way. She’s allowed to feel full of adoration in those moments when Florence is clenching around her fingers and they’re breathing as one. 

They sit in their separate rooms one night and listen to the song. Florence smiles broadly while Isa cries quietly. Isa only thinks about texting her, Florence goes ahead.

_I will love to see that day, when she will marry me outside by the willow trees and play the songs we made._

She can only hope she’s not the only one smiling.


	12. Take Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are. The final chapter. Thank you to everybody who's been reading and supporting this, it's crazy and I'm so grateful for it. I'm not going to really ramble about the chapter, I'll just say that I hope you like it and... full lyrics can be found [here](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/florencethemachine/takecare.html).   
> This one's for Nicky, because it's her birthday and she's fantastic.

“It’s like that Drake song.” 

It was 3am, granted, but she knew Isa was awake. They’d spent the night just lying in silence, really, sobs occasionally escaping from Isa. She looked so small like this, Florence thought. She never seemed to notice her friend’s size, but in this vulnerable moment she couldn’t help but take it in. 

“What’s like what song?”

Florence knew it was selfish to even be thinking it right now, but she’d said the words before she’d even meant to. She was supposed to be looking after her, comforting her, getting her through yet another break-up. Admittedly, this one had meant more, she seemed genuinely upset about this one, but it was only a matter of time. ‘The best way to get over one guy is to get under another’ had always been the advice Isa gave, and Florence was never completely sure it was a joke. 

“Doesn’t matter. Half-lucid thinking out loud. You should get some sleep, babe.”

She couldn’t sit by and let Isa lose faith again. She brushed it off each time, pretended she’d never really cared, she’d never really liked them, she’d only be with them for something to do anyway, but Florence could see her giving up. She’d seen it happen in the ten years she’d known Isabella. Not one heartbreak, that wasn’t Isa’s style, but every ending chipped away at her happiness, and Florence didn’t know how much more of it either of them could take.

“You meant something, Flo. Everything you say means something.”

They talked about it, joked about it, how Florence was Isa’s best relationship. How Isa was her constant and about their ‘undying love’ for each other. It was the truth, of course. Their unwavering ten-year commitment to each other was much more than either of them had in mind when Isa first asked her if she wanted to record. Neither of them had signed up for the long haul, neither of them could ever have anticipated the laughter, the crying, the success, the love. 

“I meant… I meant that it’s that situation. This situation, I mean. I know you’re hurting, and I know you’re struggling with trust and love and all of that but let me be there for you.”

Isa looked at her, so small and so fragile and just smiled. It was a lie, that smile, and Florence knew it. That smile said she’d let her but those eyes (those big, ridiculous eyes that could never hide a single emotion) said she wasn’t even completely sure she trusted Florence to look after her anymore. She didn’t even really feel that she could let Florence in. And Florence could see her breaking.

“You do realise that the point of that song is to look after a heartbroken girl until she’s open enough to fall in love with him?”

“I do.”

“You do realise I’m already in love with you?”

They’d talked about it a lot, they really had. They’d dealt with feelings and sex and not knowing what to do about it. They’d decided to stop sleeping together and failed to go less than a month. And Isabella had told her, told her she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t give Florence the chance to hurt her; she couldn’t ruin her only stable relationship. 

“I do.”

“You want me to be strong enough to do something about.”

“I want you to be strong enough. Full stop.”

She wasn’t expecting miracles. She wasn’t even sure she was expecting anything at all. She just needed to let Isa know. She needed to tell her that she’d wait as long as she needed to. She couldn’t think of a way to tell her she’d wait a lifetime without sounding corny, so she tried to keep it to herself. 

She meant it, though. Her priority was Isa and they both knew it. If Isabella could look her in the eye and tell her she didn’t want her (not ‘I can’t do this’, not ‘this won’t work’, simply ‘I don’t want this’) then she’d let her go, she’d have to. If Isa was happy, if Isa knew what she wanted and could stop being so damn terrified, Florence’s had achieved her goal. 

“I want you to know that I just want you to be you and be happy and have faith in yourself and if I have to spend the rest of my life snuggling you and telling you you’re perfect then I will.” 

“Shut up, Florence.”

It was a start, the smile that came her way. A smile that wasn’t just on her mouth, wasn’t even just in her eyes, but seemed to be over her whole body. 

_“If you let me, here’s what I’ll do.”_

“Shut up! If I promise to let you snuggle me and tell me I’m perfect every day will you stop singing at me? My head is pounding. Stop. Singing.”

“Sleep?”

“Yes. Shush, spoon me and sleep.”


	13. Epilogue - Since You've Been Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to post this. It's been affectionately named the "Epilogue of Doom" since the middle of January, and I finally decided to take the leap and post it. I've taken more liberties than ever before with my timeline, but give me this one okay? For the last time, full lyrics can be found [here](http://www.metrolyrics.com/since-youve-been-gone-lyrics-kelly-clarkson.html).

It didn’t seem like the past six months had moved in real time. It was like the pages had been flying off the calendar, but in slow motion. Half the time, Isa didn’t know what day it was, what date it was, what time it was. All she knew was that she felt rested. She felt calm and relaxed, like things were working out. Dare she say she felt almost… happy? 

And she could deny it all she wanted, but Florence felt the same. The time they weren’t spending on their passive-aggressive phone calls, their Skype shouting sessions, or wiping tears off their phones to be able to read each other’s texts was good. They were both enjoying their lives, both knowing the only thing keeping them from feeling amazing was the other.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t tried, and it wasn’t like they hadn’t had the best of intentions. But their relationship had started out strained, wary, confused, and being five and a half thousand miles away from each other was never going to do them any good. 

They didn’t break up, not technically. The words were never said, they never stated it was over (fitting, Isabella thought, because they never really stated it had begun) but it was as clear as day. And once it was, everything was falling back into place. Isa couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so comfortable, she’d felt like she could really talk to Florence. She wasn’t worrying now about what Florence was thinking, or about what she was trying not to think. 

No, this was right; this was how it was supposed to be. She’d always be happy they’d given it a shot, of course, they both would. They’d both be glad that they knew, knew what it felt it, and knew it didn’t work. 

She still felt a twinge, of course, a slight burst of pain when she heard Florence sing it. If there was one thing she’d learned, it was that once Florence sings it, it’s true. She’d figured that out over the years. Whether it was All I Want For Christmas, Oh! Darling, Halo, or anything else, she knew now better than ever that what came out of Florence’s mouth (what burst out of her lungs) was reality. So of course, of course it would hurt to hear how freeing their not a break-up had been, even if she felt the same way. 

Guilt washed over her when she heard it, really. She couldn’t help but feel that she’d let Florence waste years of her life chasing her, only for it to fall apart in a matter of months. She wondered what their relationship would be now. They’d always been friends, but they’d been sleeping together for years. Too many years. They’d been sharing drunken kisses for as long as Isa could remember; they’d been sharing beds for just as long. She wasn’t sure what had to change now. She still wasn’t sure which was the biggest mistake of her life, letting Florence fall in love with her, or returning the favour.


End file.
